


By different means

by FuneralBell



Category: Dude That's My Ghost!
Genre: M/M, an attempt was made at least, lonely billy joe cobra is there anything greater than that kind of billy, some mad fluffy shit did i give you cavities, wait it's not even cute fluff it's like poor fluff what am i talking about
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 19:24:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/827937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuneralBell/pseuds/FuneralBell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spencer walks in on an unsuspecting Billy singing his love-inducing song. Billy frantically weighs his options: search for a solution or wait Spencer's newfound infatuation out. And yet this affection feels pretty…conveniently great?</p>
            </blockquote>





	By different means

**Author's Note:**

> incoming homos

It was one of those days that, despite contrary belief, Billy could not feel his mischievous mojo kicking in to join Spencer at school—yesterday night he was stoked to attend another day, he never understood why Spencer could not share the same enthusiasm for learning: there was much to behold, it was amazing! Not as amazing as he was, sure, but still there was history! Biology! Planets! _Stars!_ —and instead decided to unwind and feast in his glory to uplift his uncharacteristically disheartened mood. Phasing through the hallways reminded him everyone had already left: Jessica with school, Hugh and Jane were most likely running an errand or two or at work. He was alone in his mansion; his company consisted of his portraits bearing a large, wicked grin, basking in the fame of being a pop star sensation. Drifting aimlessly around, Billy paused for a brief moment to examine the pure transparency of his hands, beyond them all he could see was his carpeted floor rather than flesh when he was…part of this world, he supposed.

His nose crinkled as he nibbled the bottom of his lip, he could feel his emotions overwhelming him—which was nothing out of the ordinary, former celebrity or not he was a pretty emotional, passionate kind of guy—yet he tried his very hardest to suppress the ecto-infused tears from leaking out of the corner of his eyes by blinking several times to recover. Steeling his resolve, Billy decided to find some manner to distract himself: he could play a video game, or watch Spencer's films that never failed to scare him with its guts, gore, and zombies, or break out his guitar or even make use of his turntables to play his tunes.

His _music._

This was not working well for him at all.

Billy navigated through his mansion to acquire one of his guitars, satisfied with his choice amongst his selection of instruments, he returned to the living room to float aimlessly around, strumming one of the three chords he knew, humming the melody to himself. He closed his eyes, fondly recalling the roaring screams of fans chanting his name loyally when he appeared on stage—"We love you, Billy Joe Cobra!" they would shout devotedly, jumping and frantically swiping the ledge of the stage to capture their idol's attention. Billy would chuckle wholeheartedly before snatching the mike, answering back to his fans with a boyish enthusiasm, "I know, there's a lot to love about _me!_ "—and by the end of each concert he would savor his glory, he knew when he left on his tour bus to his next location he was _loved_ all around.

He also knew his fans still loved him, still worshiped the ground he wal—he _used_ _to_ walk on, and no doubt if he peaked into a teenager's household, he might find some memorabilia featuring his perfect face with a generic printed signature of his. He might even reach the jackpot in a fan's household to discover one of his cut-outs! Yet, here he was, relaxing alone in his living room because he was a _ghost_ ; a ghost that could not be seen by everyone, and really his years of stardom was cut short: he could no longer record some record-breaking single that could be all about him or his snazzy gear.

Their star was _gone_.

A ghost had limits, he was aware there was a boundary he would not cross. As much as he would have considered the risks, he would not create albums if he could not be, well, _present._ He would have to accept he would never be loved the same way before,

and that just

just really upset him.

It would have sucked real hard, he thought vaguely, if he was just some wandering ghost without relatives. The Wright family made up a great chunk of his joy as a ghost, and Spencer filled that void of communication he would have dearly needed. Sure, he could force anyone to see him by having them wear one of his personal possessions, but there was no real…connection? Spencer was his _broski_ , his partner-in-crime, someone that could tolerate him at every hour of the day. Rajeev and Shanilla were an added plus to the whole mess, without Spencer there would be no possible way, as far as he knew, to befriend anyone else.

Spencer was the greatest, Billy thought as he strummed the next two chords on his guitar, his lips upturning in a sheepish smile, always with him even though he was perfectly aware his personality was a handful for just about any person other than Spencer. Billy received all the attention he needed from the energetic freshman that was always eager to string together a new film, and he made Billy feel absolutely needed for some pranks, other silly antics, or for "special effects" as everybody coined it. Spencer would then show him that genuine happiness when he was assisted, and the gratification of the reward was fist-bump or a "Thanks, Billy!", and only until recently did he realize how often he would feed off those picturesque moments.

He sighed under his breath, setting his guitar aside to recall that very sweet classmate Mallory of Spencer's: there was something between them, he could feel it in his gut, and it was only a matter of time before something _did_ happen that would divide Spencer's attention for his future, potential girlfriend, leaving him to recognize that he might be feeling even lonelier days than these ahead of him.

He stopped humming ' _I Give You Butterflies,'_ it made him feel grumpy there was an underlying irony when it should have been the other way around like it had always been. It _sucked_ _hard_ admitting to himself that he, an all-time famous pop star, has it bad for someone he considers his best friend.

Dealing with those realizations on a daily basis sucks _hardcore_ when he has to deal with this awkward attachment that would remain one-sided for a whole list of reasons.

Billy reclaimed his guitar before phasing through the ceiling to return to Spencer's room, settling himself on the revolving computer chair and spun around to face the wall. That is it, he was going to jam to a song to quell these horrid emotions of his, there was no harm in it if Spencer was still in school—he told Spencer about this particular song a few days prior, and although he did not believe its all-magical prowess, Billy laughed nervously that _yeah, believe him or not, it's not like it matters because wow if he showed Spencer it'll be majorly awkward_ —maybe he would search for his pair of headphones to connect to his instrument to drone the sound of honking cars outside, to mute everything around him.

Sounded like plan.

* * *

Nothing was more satisfying than having an announcement to remind forgetful students, such as himself, of the events that pertain his high school, namely that today was a half-day session. Spencer would give himself a pat on the shoulder successfully making it through his Friday without being threatened with detention or expulsion by Ponzi, it was surprising just going through the day without seeing his principal hounding him through the halls. He was ecstatic to return home! He would have more time to formulate a new movie idea for his MeTube page, and if he was lucky enough, he would record some scenes the same day with Rajeev's and Billy's help.

Spencer wandered through an intersection of town to window shop, he felt disappointed Billy missed out on school—this was like a religious practice to always be together, or at least Spencer would think of it that way since Billy was attached to him like a limb—so he considered buying his ghost cousin some peanut butter treat or some leftover Billy Joe Cobra merchandise collecting dust at some shop somewhere in the city. Opting to buy treats instead inside a small shop, he was tempted to phone Billy to check up on him if his mood had improved, but decided against it as he stocked up on some small peanut butter snacks that he was confident Billy would love.

Spencer rolled his eyes at the thought of the world "love," Billy's loving interest was really his music, himself, his mother's brownies, and peanut butter: Billy was a trip and a half in the personality department, truly. On the way home, Spencer's curiosity was piqued at the idea of Billy having any girlfriend around, he seemed like the type of guy too consumed with himself one way or another to be fully invested in anyone else, then again Billy invested his time with him every day. Not like he had much of a choice, Spencer considered glumly, he was sure he would have never contacted Billy while he was still living up his fame, maybe Billy would have never given his family the time of day either when he was busily on tour somewhere in the world. There was a foul taste in his mouth thinking it through, he didn't really like the idea, and although it was cruel to say, he was actually grateful Billy was just a ghost residing in his mansion with nothing better to do than loyally follow him around.

Billy had his moments that made Spencer feel in odd constriction in his throat, a sensation so alien that Spencer never quite questioned it. He was worried he was being affected by some strange, post-ecto disorder, he wasn't certain, until he slowly, but gradually, recognized the cause of his problem.

Mallory helped distinguish that tingly, fluttering sensation, even though she remained clueless to his ordeal. He liked Mallory to an extent—then again, the whole community did too, he learned that the hard way. The memory made him shudder—so when he finally came in contact with Billy to test out his theory, his ghostly friend waved his hand in his face, voicing out his concern that he looked a little pale. Spencer brushed it off in the nick of time, gave a dismissive excuse he was really tired and felt a little feverish—when Billy gravitated his hand close with the intention to check Spencer's temperature, Spencer swatted his hand away a little harsher than he planned, he apologized immediately when Billy offered him the most pitiful, dejected expression known to man—then called it a night. It was difficult to avoid having those kinds of feelings for various reasons. Heck, besides being a ghost, Billy was evidently older too.

 _Awkward_.

Exiting the little mart, he stuffed his hands into his pockets, heaved a dragged sigh, almost a bit reluctant to return home when he too considered he was having it bad for a certain former pop star. He groaned quietly, wondering why he couldn't be completely smitten by Mallory instead.

The brunet figured he would have an hour or so before someone arrived home, presumably Jessica and his mother or father. The weather was unforgiving, the blistering heat causing sweat to form under his fringes, and he figured he might as well head straight home than roam around. When he did arrive, he arched a brow, slightly confused that he was never greeted upon returning. If anything, it only made feel a little more concern that maybe Billy was having a very rough day. Should he intrude? Leave him alone? Nah, Billy would open up, it would be unlike him to be tight-lipped about almost anything. He felt a tad bit nervous riding the elevator to his room, regardless this behavior was unbecoming of Billy, but might as well face the music as his elevator reached its stop, the doors slowly prying apart.

There he was, playing his guitar, either oblivious or ignoring the elevator chime when he arrived.

Spencer took a few steps forward, outreaching his hand to swing the chair around. "Yo, Billy, feeling any bet—" he was cut short, his hand suspended in the air, entranced by rhythmic sound of the smooth octaves of Billy's singing voice.

" _I do Tokyo, it's all 'Kimi wo aishiteru.'_ _That's right, they love me. And when home is near, you know I gotta hear 'I love you.' It means you love me_ ," he sprung from the chair, unaware of Spencer's presence as he drifted to the window. " _'Cause when you look into this boy's eyes, it drives you all insane, because you love me. You know I gotta hear, 'I love you.'_ " He paused to collect himself before shooting his hands up in a tight fist, cheering himself on as he said to himself, "Aw yeah, another stellar performance from the Cobra! Thank you, thank you!"

Giddily, Billy turned around, his expression deflating, a twinge of embarrassment evident in his expression. "Whoa brosepth, what are you doing here early?" Setting his guitar and headphones down, he hovered over to Spencer. "Not cool, dude. You could have told me or something! Hey, whaddya say to some video games? I'm going to school you, young brohopper!"

Spencer shook his head, his arm rested back to his side. "That was a great song, Billy," he whispered quietly, his words drawled slowly.

"Song?" Billy repeated, genuinely confused for a short moment.

The only song—

oh.

_Oh._

"I'm pretty much hosed right now," Billy said to himself, concealing the sheer panic he was having in his head. His distant cousin just listened to a song that was _definitely not meant for him at the moment_ , it was intended for some chick that he may have fancied or the like, this—this was terrible, terrible beyond words. His best friend was completely infatuated with him—who knows for how long!—against his will, it's something that happens because he sang that ridiculously great song to _Spencer and this can't be happening._

While Spencer was digging his hand into the plastic bag dangling around his wrist, Billy weighed the possibility of begging Rajeev and Shanilla to help him out but disclosing Spencer's new problem might unsettle them _._ This was a predicament he was going to have to solve himself, if he could even solve it, that is.

Spencer had a vice grip on his wrist in an instant, dragging the ghost to sit on his bed while he sat snugly beside a very uncomfortable Billy Joe Cobra at lost for words to handle the situation's severity. Billy shuddered when Spencer creeped his hand over his own; his eyes focused on the treat being offered near his mouth: a bite-sized piece of chocolate, the aroma of a peanut butter glaze lingering near his nostrils and _wow_ that smelled delectable that he unconsciously opened his mouth to allow Spencer to feed him a handful of the confectionery he bought.

However, Billy made the attempt to move away when Spencer's fingers lingered on his cold lips, and although it was a failed effort, Billy managed to find his voice to vocalize a complaint. "No, dude, not cool," he wiggled his wrist, frowning to see the hand remain. "This is, y'know, _awkward_. You're my…bro! Yeah, you're my bro! So, uh, let's just forget this ever happened and fix this 'cause you're not, um…?"

"In lo-"

"Whoa, whoa, hey now!" Billy panicked, tugging on his arm. "That is so not the right word! You don't _like_ me that way, it's my song! I warned you, Spence!"

Spencer rolled his eyes, he released Billy's hand and snaked his arms around the ghost's neck, pressing him on the bed as he snuggled close, and emitted a low, appreciative sound at Billy's alarmed squeak. "But I do like you," Spencer quirked his head to the side to kiss Billy's jaw line, slowly descending to leave a trail of smaller, fleeting kisses on the dip of his neck.

"No," Billy groaned, rudely planting both of his hands of the teen's face to push him aside, "you don't. The song, man, _the song._ Let's just hope for the both of us you might forget all about this!"

Spencer looked a bit miffed, unsure whether or not to respond. Rather than trying to convince him through words, Spencer looped a leg over Billy's, laughing quietly to himself as he eyed Billy visibly stiffening and trying to swallow the lump caught in his throat.

* * *

The situation, although completely nerve-wracking for Billy at first, was more desirable than he anticipated. Sure, Spencer did not know what was going on with him, this love trance would wear off and they could just continue on with their lives as if nothing ever transpired in the first place, but in the end it was everything he wanted and more. He would admit not much has changed, they continued to goof off in the pool, splashing and dunking one another, they played several video games together, and Billy would hover over Spencer's shoulder as per usual to see a video or two on the computer monitor.

Billy was living the second dream—the first, of course, was making it big into the musical industry—when he was able to experience the chance to walk through town on a fair-weathered Saturday, nobody paid Spencer any heed when he strolled through different stores with his hand raised slightly in a loosely entwined manner, unbeknownst to most of the population he was casually holding hands with a ghost busily admiring a flattering display of himself by the window of a music store. Spencer would appear as if he was talking to himself, and if anybody had noticed, he seemed to disregard them completely even though it was far from a new habit: he went to multiple places around town with Billy before, and sometimes they tussled over the most childish things and would cause a scene, but Spencer would brush it off and offer an embarrassed smile to play the fiasco off.

The day turned to night, there was two hours to kill before the pair had to return home, and there seemed nothing better than just wasting the time with a movie at the cinema. A date! Billy was grinning wider when Spencer thanked the booth operator for the ticket stub, and even plastered his face against the glass display of different packets of candy. When Spencer entered the theater with an arm full of popcorn, soda, and candy, the grin faltered a little when Spencer failed to mention the movie was another horror film of screamers, monsters, gore, and _oh sweet mercy that was a severed head how was that even allowed in a PG-13 movie why is this even happening._

In the most serious of moments when the audience expected a jumper, Billy was nearly about to retch at the trail of deceased monsters behind the protagonist, causing Spencer to cup his hand against his mouth to muffle his laughter. When the mood became eerie in the film, Billy would make a quick dash behind the teen's chair, digging his ghostly fingers in the cushioning, shifting and murmuring to himself, "No, man, no, you don't want to go in there. Don't go in there!"

Spencer eventually took pity on him, only because he was getting tired pressing a finger to his lip to indicate that Billy had to be quiet because he needed to stop _screaming_ , and told Billy to sit on his lap. In other scenarios, Billy might have struggled to find a reason to decline the offer, but he refused to be a little punk, he was going watch the movie until the end even if he covered his eyes when several of the monsters had an unnecessary close-up of their grotesque features. After a few other scenes, Billy felt less jumpy, sure he felt terrified senseless when a creature appeared from the depths of the darkness,

but,

this close contact was just what he needed.

When they left the theater, Spencer joked, "Man, I don't get why you get so freaked out by a couple of monsters. Look at you, you're a ghost, you're actually real and people would find that scary. Remember the spook you gave Mallory? Well, not you, but when she thought everything was haunted?"

"Hey! I deserve props for that!" he huffed proudly, a fondness spreading on his face even if it ended as a bust to prove that the ghost was _captured_.

Later that night, Billy roamed his mansion for ideas while Spencer was fast asleep – something, there had to be _something_ he could do to restore his actual relationship before Monday, to cure Spencer's expression from alternating from his usual self to the typical lovestruck, sultry gaze of youthful teenage boys. It was… _nice_ while it lasted a good two, and maybe a half by tomorrow if he could find a solution, days remaining by the brunet's side, the closeness, the not-feeling-lonely part and feeling absolutely-utterly-fantastic his affections were being reciprocated in a way. Billy's shoulders slump, his eyebrows knitted together: how can he make anyone not _love him_ anymore?

* * *

On Sunday afternoon while Spencer was taking a shower, Billy fled for the outside world, desperately clinging to the little ray of hope he would find them: he swooped down when the dot in the distance became distinguishable; the inviting doors wide open for new customers to enter the WiFri. He desperately inspected the caf _é_ for familiar faces, absently biting the nail of thumb as he drifted further inside, and just when he thought he would have to make use of the other option of simply visiting their house, Billy sighed in relief the two were sitting down talking to one another.

Billy hastily swooped around the chair to have Shanilla face him, her expression transitioning from being completely mellow to utterly bemused, her eyes widening when Billy grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her gently. "You gotta help me!" he croaked, his tone pitifully desperate.

Shanilla had managed to convince her ghostly friend to stop shaking her or she would feel nauseated any second, she took a brief pause to clear her throat and push her glasses so it could rest neatly on the bridge of her nose. "Hello to you too, Billy. What happened?" She wasn't too convinced it was a matter of grave danger; after all, she knew he was quite the melodramatic character.

Rajeev huffed, crossing his arms, grumbling something along the lines of "feeling ignored here!"

"Okay, so let's say, uhh," his eyes looked everywhere but straight at Shanilla, self-conscious and overwhelmed with guilt, Billy distanced himself a comfortable arm's length from her. "Hypothetically speaking," he nervously clasped his hands together, twiddling his thumbs, "how do you, oh I don't know, make someone not love you anymore because a song that has the power to make you fall in love with the singer didn't mean to sing it at all and basically someone listened in at the wrong time?" Okay, he thought, he could have spoken slower but overall he nailed it.

Shanilla blinked owlishly. "If I'm following this…um, correctly? You want someone to snap out of this, correct?"

Not really, it was the only time he might ever be able to kiss or hold Spencer. Exhaling through his nose, Billy nodded dejectedly. "Yeah…hypothetically speaking!" he added, driving away any leftover suspicion.

She explained to him that one option included the person finding someone new—Billy was adamantly against the idea, Shanilla didn't prod his refusal any further—or have the song play on repeat all day: once they were fully exasperated by song, any association with it will be severed out of frustration.

That sent a pang in his chest.

"Thanks for the help! Anyway, I have to get going!"

Rajeev, oddly quiet throughout Shanilla's and Billy's exchange, hiked an eyebrow. "Where's Spencer?"

"Oh, you know, doing things. Important things. A lot of, uh, important things. So, last question for both of you guys: any of you two have some spare duct tape and rope?"

* * *

Spencer fell for the bait.

Billy returned before Spencer noticed he was missing, he naturally played it cool that he saw a video online that Spencer had to see and it was of dire importance so he needed to stop looking so grumpy when Billy looped his arms under the teen's armpits, dragging him forward to sit. In the last minute he was able to conjure a false giddiness to see the non-existent video, much to Spencer's dismay when he preferred to be told of the content than have the video kept a secret, but humored Billy regardless by closing his eyes, placidly telling him, "I'm waiting."

Then, in a quick, fluid motion, Billy loosely tied Spencer to the computer chair, the teen's eyes fluttering open when he complained he felt constricted. It dawned on him as his line of vision drifted to the rope around his ankles, looped over his chest, and he could feel his wrist were tied to ensure he was fully immobile, if he did budge he would would just risk an injury slipping off the chair. Mumbling a swift apology, Billy delicately pressed a piece of tape against Spencer's mouth—his parents seldom checked up on him during the weekends, but in case of anything—and secured a pair of headphones to fasten on Spencer's head, its large buds constructed to block out background noise.

After connecting the headphone's jack to the computer, he downloaded his song and set it to auto-loop. He craned his neck to spare Spencer a glance but he almost wished he didn't, he was receiving such a deadly glower, a series of muffled shouts followed shortly after.

It was about time to salvage the last instance he could kiss his best friend.

"See you in a couple of hours, bro."

A softness returned in the glint of Spencer's eyes when Billy's knuckle grinded against his head in an affectionate manner, but more than anything Billy was sporting the look he was bearing on Friday morning.

A quick peck on the nose and Billy phased through the walls.

* * *

According to the clock and the moment he remembered he should have checked it much sooner, he had left Spencer listening to his song on repeat for approximately – Billy's tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth, he focused on his fingers to count down the hours that flew by while he peacefully drifted on his inflatable pool float, enjoying the water trickling on his transparent feet.

It has been eight hours since he last saw Spencer.

The Wright family was occupied with their own business they had not even the slightest clue that Spencer was enduring a song a minute and a half long in length for _eight hours_.

Ah. Did Spencer ever have a bathroom break? Billy thought, a nagging concern filling his head. Or food?

Billy snatched his clothes, rushing for Spencer's room like his deceased life depended on it.

* * *

The worst part was that he was wide awake, apparently, so even if he wanted to doze off to drone the sound of Billy's song after the hundredth time, he really had no ounce of drowsiness lodged within his body besides his limbs. By this point, Spencer would be convinced he lost all sensation in his legs after he remained in a single seating position for _far too long,_ not even the static sensation or the prickly feeling in his calves bothered him anymore after the third hour: his nerves and spirit were dead, however his hunger remained.

Billy made a soft sound, as if he was moderately horrified, and slowly removed the headphones from Spencer's ear _and whoa it left a red imprint behind_ , he readied himself for the worst of Spencer's murderous onslaught subjected to the torture of a looped song. The ropes came off next, then the tape, and Spencer fell to the floor with a loud thud, he uttered a strained, mock cry, overjoyed that he could feel the blood flow in his legs at long last. Spencer mentioned he's never, ever going to sit again until tomorrow.

It was still a delicate situation, Billy acknowledged, but he figured now would have been the time to test the waters between their relationship. "Brodicus, are you done? Like, did the power die out from you so you're not feeling…weirdly in lo—no, wait," he fumbled, failing to choose his words carefully.

Spencer remained displeased, a little ill and pale too, but hobbled slightly when he managed to get back on his feet to stand, then paused for a brief second to collect himself in a calmer manner. "I never want to hear another song from you ever again."

"Aww, come on! You know you can't hate on classics like ' _P.S. I Love Me'_ and _'I'm Still In Love With Me,'_ they're record-selling gold!" Sensing the seriousness of Spencer's tone, Billy deflated, reminding himself not to squeeze humor in their conversation.

Spencer's frown slowly split into a genuine grin, filling the room with an airy laugh that instantly uplifted the former pop star's mood. He agreed with Billy for his sake, despite how narcissistic the songs were, they were true classics and the awards received for his silly singles were enough to prove their worth, including Billy's talent. Spencer confessed in a casual manner that he definitely could not stand the song anymore, but he also faintly remembers Billy talking about its love-inducing affect, giving him an excuse to steal the initiative to be as close as they were.

Although when he admitted that, his sun-kissed skin revealed a pinkish-red flush creeping on his cheeks, pointedly avoid direct eye contact. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, filling the choking silence with an additional confession: his actions were completely voluntary, he wasn't certain whether the song had any real affect, but perhaps spurred the courage he never had considering there was no appropriate opportunity to admit that he was catching feelings for his best friend. At least with the song he could determine if the feelings were completely one-sided to then blame it on the music and move on with his life in the worst-case scenario.

Billy steeled the resolve to pounce, sending Spencer to unceremoniously collide with the floor; he delivered a hard but loving noogie and an exaggerated sigh of relief because he was terrified more than anything _this_ would come to an end.

"You're the best, brojangles!" he quipped merrily; he cupped Spencer's face and delivered a wet, sloppy kiss on Spencer's upper lip.

Spencer's hands drifted on the hem of Billy's green blazer, teasingly he said, "Your coordination sucks, B."

**Author's Note:**

> so this was also uploaded on my ffn but that doesnt matter so yeah look at me adding a bad contribution ye


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